


The Hands of Fate

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Tarot, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:10:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2341244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg buys a deck of tarot cards and wants to tell Mycroft's fortune.  Mycroft, however, is <i>not</i> excited about the idea, especially as the cards begin to fall...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hands of Fate

      “Gregory, I am more than slightly confused by this.  You are forever decrying your impoverished state, yet you allow funds to dribble out of your pocket like water through your fingers.”

Mycroft gazed at the garish little box in his Detective Inspector’s hands and wondered, not for the first time today, what had come over his partner.

      “Just say it, Mycroft.  I waste money.”

      “In this case, yes.”

      “In this case, no.  When I bought you those hazelnut truffles, _that_ was a waste of money.”

      “ _That_ was a necessity for my survival, so I do not count it as a waste.”

      “Must be hard straddling those double standards.”

      “Such is the benefit of very long legs.”

      “Well, that’s _one_ benefit.  I can think of a few others.”

      “I am nothing if not versatile.”

      “Well, you bask in your versatility and I’m going to continue my happy little walk and if I see any other items of interest, I’ll toss more of my tiny pile of cash into the wind and take home more foolishness.  Maybe I can find one of those funny hats with bells.”

      “It is a _very_ long walk home, my dear.  Think carefully before you lose your access to the car.”

      “Abandoned and scorned.  I always knew I’d end up that way in life.”

      “But you shall have your jingly hat for comfort.”

      “Yeah, there is that.”

__________

      “I refuse most strongly.”

      “Since you don’t ever tend to refuse weakly, except in bed, I’m not affected by that statement.”

Mycroft glared at his partner, who was grinning back at him from across the kitchen table like a cat who had found the mouth of the River Cream.

      “Put those away.”

      “Nope.  Gonna show you why this wasn’t a waste of money.  Learned my skills from a grand old lady who had real ability and she said I was a _fantastic_ student.”

      “Gregory Lestrade… there is no psychic ability associated with the reading of tarot cards.  It is a very easy matter to concoct any story and watch for clues in a person’s responses to deduce the accuracy of your fabrication.”

      “Then why are you afraid for me to do a reading for you?  You’re Mycroft Holmes, the _master_ of controlling his responses.”

      “Would you not rather enjoy a nice fire and a quiet evening on the sofa with a good book?”

      “Why can’t I have both?  If you’d just let me read your cards, then you’d see how right I was and we can have a good snog, along with the good books.”

      “You are not going to turn your mind from this, are you, my dear?”

      “You’re arguing with a cop, Mycroft.  We’re known for our doggedness.  And ruggedness, but the former’s more important right now.”

      “Very well, if only to salvage the rest of our lovely evening.  What must I do?”

      “That’s the spirit!  Ok, take the cards and shuffle them around as much as you want and think about your question.”

      “I have no question.”

      “Would you just cooperate!”

      “As you wish.  Oh magical pieces of printed cardstock, was it a prudent decision to take Gregory Lestrade into my home to share my life?  I am beginning to rethink my choices.”

      “Bastard.  But now you’re stuck because your question’s been imprinted on the cards and you’re going to get your answer whether you like it or not.  And… now I have to, too.”

Mycroft set down the cards and stared at his visibly-concerned partner in astonishment.

      “Gregory... you do not actually believe that your tarot cards have any true mystical powers, do you?”

      “Maybe.  I’ve seen a lot of strange things in this world, Mycroft, and I’ve known a couple of people who… let’s just say, I’m not saying they don’t.”

      “My dearest… you cannot possibly believe that I would honestly question our relationship?”

      “You asked didn’t you.”

      “As a jest.”

      “Well, I guess we’ll find out.”

If there was one thing that Mycroft despised, it was seeing his beloved’s luminous grin fade from his face and being the reason for his partner's distress.  He would need to be far more cautious about his future attempts at humor.

      “Ok, I’ll do this the quick way.  Five cards down.  Two for the past, one for the present, two for the future.  You just keep thinking about your question while I deal the cards and it’ll make the reading stronger.  Not that that’s necessarily a good thing.”

      “I am very much of a mind that this is not a sound idea.  Let us instead..."

      “Too late, here’s the first and… ok, you’re right.  This was a bad idea.  We’re not doing this.”

There was almost a fear in his lover's eyes and Mycroft’s anxiety escalated to a dangerous degree.

      “What is wrong?  Gregory, I have assured you that you should have no worries about my feelings for you.”

      “It’s ok.  Let’s just get those books, shall we?”

Lestrade tried to rise from the table but had his wrist grabbed and the card he was holding plucked from his fingers.  Mycroft put it down on the table and stared at the picture.

      “I’m so sorry, Mycroft.  I know you don’t talk about things from your past, but… that’s the Ten of Swords.  Oh god… it was bad wasn’t it?  What happened to you?”

Mycroft had thought he had firmly welded shut the door to all emotions associated with that particular event, yet he felt a choking lump leap into his throat and a wetness bathe his eyes that took an extreme act of will not to let flow.

      “Love?  Look, I’m putting the cards away and…”

      “No.  No, I am quite alright.”

      “No, you’re not.  Do you want to talk about it?”

Never.  Not for any reason.   The past was the past.

      “I mean… is it… is it why you wanted to go so slowly?  Why you really didn’t want to get close to me in the beginning?”

However, the past, apparently, refused to stay in the past.  And his Gregory was absolutely correct.  It _had_ shaped the course of their relationship; slowed it to a glacial pace that nearly stalled at times for his lack of ability to fully trust the man he desperately wanted to love.  It was only his partner’s patience and devotion that enabled him to eventually reach out and take one step after another, cautious though they might be, until he finally found a nearly undreamed of happiness with the most incomparable man in existence.  He had nearly lost his Gregory a dozen times over because of his anxieties and lack of faith and he could not add to that insult a disgraceful lie.

      “It was.  I would rather not speak of the specifics at this time, but you are correct in that the extreme caution I took navigating our relationship was based on prior experiences that were not what one would call pleasant or encouraging.”

      “I am so, so sorry, Mycroft.  Really… if ever you do want to talk about it, you know you can, right?  I can’t love you any less, no matter what happened.”

There was a time Mycroft would have had grave doubts about that, but if he had learned one thing, it was that his lover's affections were unconditional.  And he had absolutely no idea what he had done to deserve that.

      “Perhaps someday.  But I _am_ aware that you will not turn away from me.  It is the one constant in my life.  The one thing I never have to question.”

Lestrade reached over, stroked Mycroft’s hand and hoped that _someday_ came soon.  Mycroft liked to pretend that his emotions were inconsequential or nonexistent, but that was a ridiculous lie.  He felt things deeply, very deeply, and Lestrade could not stand to think about the amount of pain Mycroft must be carrying over whatever it was that put tears in his eyes.

      “Ok… that sounds good.  Now, how about that snog on the sofa?”

      “I believe I have four more cards.”

      “You can’t possibly…”

      “I can.  I was quite selfish denying you your chance to demonstrate your talents.  Please, what is my next card?

Lestrade shook his head, but pulled the next card off of the top of the deck, this time laughing when he saw it.

      “Well, can’t say I’m surprised… Justice.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened at the picture on the card and found himself chuckling along with Lestrade.

      “I _was_ drawn powerfully to your integrity, my dear.  And your immutable sense of right and wrong.  However, you understood well the nature of _justice_ as opposed to _law_ and I found that trait something we shared.”

      “Yeah, I’ll admit I wasn’t sure sometimes, early on, if you actually had your eye on the rightness of a situation or a decision, but I learned pretty quickly that, even if you can’t make a decision you like, you try to make the best decision for the greater good.  I never, ever want to be you, love, but I’m glad that it _is_ you that’s you, if that makes any sense.”

      “You trust me to at least try to be just.”

      “There you go, always finding the right words when I can’t.  Ok, this one’s for the present and… whoa.”

      “Is that a troubling or comforting exclamation?”

      “Actually… could be either.  Nature of the beast – Wheel of Fortune.  Very powerful card.  Actions of destiny and fate.  Things outside your control that can have a massive effect on your life.  Big decisions, big changes… everything big.  You… christ, Mycroft… are you ok?”

Ok?  How could he be ok?  How could he possibly be ok knowing what was locked away in the safe in his study, awaiting the time when he collected the final pieces of his courage and confronted his feelings fully and unreservedly. That small, velvet-lined box that offered the possibility of ultimate acceptance or crushing rejection.  Factors outside his control, indeed…

      “Of course… you are well aware how startling it is for me to consider that _anything_ may be beyond my control.  Destiny and fate… they are neither tools that I can employ, nor factors that I readily consider as I conduct my daily business.”

      “That’s a sad excuse for a bluff, so now I know you’re rattled.  I truly am sorry, Mycroft… I really didn’t plan this.  None of it.  Not at all… just a lark, I thought.  Something fun…”

Mycroft smiled weakly and motioned for Lestrade to continue on.

      “Another, if you please.  I find myself quite anxious to discover what my future holds.  I am sure you are most ready, also.”

Actually, Mycroft wanted nothing more than for a hurricane to blow through the room and whisk away the wretched cards his Gregory had purchased.  He most certainly did not want to see what they boded for his future, a future that was intimately tied to the man about whom he’d foolishly asked a question.

      “Not if it upsets you.  There’s nothing to me that's worse than that.”

Which was why Mycroft loved him so deeply.  Gregory Lestrade was the only person who truly valued him as a person, first and foremost.  And knowing his faults and flaws, loved him, nonetheless.

      “This is something I feel would be very informative, my dear.  Turn the next, please.”

That, at least, was not an untruth.  Of course, information was a very fickle thing…

      “Ok, but only if you’re sure.”

After one small and rather weak nod from his partner, Lestrade was pulling the fourth card from the deck and promising himself that Mycroft would get a long night of every bit of affection he could offer after this debacle.  Something had shaken the light of his life to the core, and that was probably the most frightening thing he had ever encountered, but it would _not_ stop him from trying to erase whatever turmoil he’d dredged up.  He would _not_ let Mycroft suffer, no matter what the cause.

      “Five of Wands.  Wands are all about new things and…”

      “That appears to be a heated altercation.  I assume this change is not a favorable one.”

      “That’s not the issue, really, it’s more… there’s an obstacle to the changes you want or need.  There’s a fight or struggle or conflict that’s keeping you from moving forward.  Could be internal, could be external.  Something you have to work out with a cool head if you want to get past this roadblock.  Really does go along with the Wheel of Fortune.  You… ummm… you have any idea what it might refer to?”

How best to phrase it?  Cowardice?  Weakness? Allowing old ghosts to haunt his life and blow cold through the best thing that had ever happened to him?  Insecurity?  Fear?  A traipsing through a dictionary and thesaurus could fill _pages_ with ideas…

      “It is something on which I would require time to reflect.”

And find a way to hide the fractures and fissures that were certainly growing more and more visible to his partner.

      “Sure… yeah, that’s good.  Want to stop?  Just a silly card game, right?”

Mycroft _had_ thought that was the case.  Now he was ready to burn the witchery in a fire and salt the ashes.

      “Quite right.  And we must see the final draw.  I presume it shows the outcome of this grand battle?”

      “Might.  Might show what happens if you win or if you lose.  If you choose to fight or choose to retreat.  Certain you want me to flip?”

There really was no other option.  Nothing on Earth was going to prevent Mycroft from seeing the last card.  The others had been far too telling.

      “I am greatly looking forward to it.”

Lestrade took the final card from the deck and wished to hell he knew what it meant.  He knew what he _hoped_ it meant and further hoped that his own eyes weren’t getting shiny.  It was what _he_ wanted, what he lay in bed and thought about when Mycroft was long asleep or working away on something that kept him from their bed for days on end.  Not something he fully believed would ever happen, though, because… well, because he had his own doubts that Mycroft would ever want something like that with him.  They were good together, really good together, but… Mycroft was Mycroft and maybe what they had right now was enough for him.

      “Gregory?  Is it… unfortunate?”

      “I guess it depends on… I guess it depends.”

Lestrade put the card down and Mycroft drew in a deep breath and fixed his gaze on the man he loved to the depths of his soul.

      “And what would _you_ say?”

      “It wasn’t my question.  My opinion doesn’t matter.  I can tell you what the card says, but I can’t tell you if _you_ think it’s good or bad.”

      “I want to know, Gregory.”

      “Does it matter?”

      “It matters more than you can possibly imagine.”

Lestrade reached out and touched the card as if hoping to gain strength from the image under this fingertips.  Not that any sprang forth, but he had learned long ago that nothing good ever came of backing down from the truth.

      “I think it’s most wonderful thing in the world.  Best thing, happiest thing… it’s what I’ve always wanted with you.  But, like I said… not my call on that.”

Mycroft eyes cut between his lover and the Ten of Cups lying on the table.  The happy family in the beautiful countryside.  Loving parents and playful children.  And his Gregory wanted that.  With _him_.  Wanted everything and was willing to have him be the person with whom to share it all.  Maybe… maybe there _could_ be children, it was not impossible, or maybe they would be satisfied with the tempestuous and petulant one they already had.  Someone who would always be a child, _their_ child, no matter his age nor how hard John worked to moderate his immaturity.  The specifics were irrelevant at his point, however.  It was enough… It was enough to know that his lover put him as the second adult in the card, embracing, as spouses, while looking out over the grand vista of their future life.

It was laid out as clearly as a script.  What he had to do, what was necessary… and what was the reward for throttling his demons and taking that final step away from the darkness that had haunted him for so very long.

      “I believe it is time we had a talk.”

      “Fuck.”

Lestrade shoved the pack of cards away from him and leaned over to hold his head in his hands.  Mycroft cursed his idiotic choice of words and reached out to pry away one of his Detective Inspector’s hands and hold it tightly.

      “Not that particular type of talk, my dear.  One that… one that I believe you will find agreeable.  Or, at least, the terminus.  I do not believe you will enjoy the earlier portions, but… a struggle, yes?  A battle of the internal nature?  I believe it is time we discussed many things I have held apart from you.  And…”

Mycroft reached down with his free hand and picked up the Ten of Cups from the table.

      “I consider this a good card, Gregory.  Perhaps the most blissful, most thrilling, most terrifying and most desired card you could have turned.  But we have this one first to deal with.”

This time, Mycroft took up the Five of Wands and placed it with the other in his hand.  It was time his Gregory knew everything.

      “Now?  Mycroft, you’re… I don’t know what’s going on but…”

      “I do.  Surprisingly, I actually do.  Let us retire to the study for our conversation, shall we?  I shall start a fire going and… there is something in there I am going to require anyway.  It has been waiting for far too long and I believe it should wait no longer…”


End file.
